Holly Lane (Destiny, Ohio) Page 24

  She saw her husband swallow visibly, then he slowly took her hands again in his. When he spoke this time, his voice came low and deep. “Jenny, I love you, you know that. But . . . no. I can’t. That’s just all there is to it—just . . . no.”

  Jenny stood before him saying nothing, biting her lower lip so she wouldn’t start to cry.

  It was his right to feel this way. And yet—somehow she just couldn’t quite accept it. Suddenly, she couldn’t quite figure out how she was ever going to be truly, deeply happy again if she knew with certainty that she’d never be someone’s mother, and that Mick didn’t even want to try. And what if she grew to resent him for it? And what if he resented her, too? How on earth had her once-perfect marriage suddenly gone so wrong?

  “Come on,” he said then, his voice low and a bit wooden, “Tessa and Lucky are waiting.”

  Sophie sat on the floor watching the brand new Lionel train circling the Christmas tree—Sue Ann’s mother had insisted on giving it to Sophie as an early gift just a few days ago. “Otherwise,” she’d told Sue Ann, “she won’t get to put it around the tree this year. So why not let her have it now?” Sue Ann knew, though, the gift was really her mother’s way of helping keep Sophie’s mind off the fact that everything was different this Christmas.

  As dusk turned to dark outside, Sophie loaded the tiny people from her favorite dollhouse into an empty train car—Sue Ann had passed her love of dollhouses, and a few of the houses themselves, on to her daughter. Then Sophie switched the train on again as Sue Ann leaned back, trying to get comfy on the sofa, her real estate study book open in her lap.

  Between getting ready for Christmas, going to holiday events, and . . . well, Adam, she’d devoted very little attention to studying the last few weeks. And she was still trying to start using all her time wisely. Now that Christmas was almost here and all the work surrounding it was done, it was a good time to refocus. And Adam was out of her life—romantically and sexually anyway—so she was doing her damnedest not to waste any more time or emotion on him.

  “Can Adam come over and see the train?” Sophie asked then.

  Oh boy, think of the devil. Not that Adam was actually the devil, but . . . “Oh, I don’t think so, honey—I’m sure he’s busy. It’s only a few days ’til Christmas, after all.”

  “It’s only a few days ’til Christmas for us, too, but we’re not busy.”

  Well, crap. True. And maybe Sue Ann wished she were more busy—just as she had in the cabin after Thanksgiving. But again, everything was done. Gifts were bought and wrapped. Cards and packages sent. Now, other than studying, there was nothing to do but sit around and wait . . . for Santa not to bring Sophie a reindeer. She let out a sigh. “Well, I need to study, and you, young lady, have homework of your own.” Christmas break hadn’t started just yet. “And we’ll need to bake some more cookies for your class party, too—maybe tomorrow after school. How’s that sound?”

  Sophie smiled. “Fun.”

  “Good. Now go grab your books. You have math problems to do and a spelling test to get ready for.”

  But even as she and Sophie both buckled down and got to work, Adam stayed on Sue Ann’s mind. And she couldn’t even blame it on Sophie having mentioned him—the truth was that he stayed firmly in her thoughts most of the time now anyway, despite her best efforts to banish him from her brain.

  She’d let herself slowly begin to trust in him, just for a short while, and even just that—God—had left her much more vulnerable than she’d been before. Their conversation after sex the other night had simply felt like having the rug pulled out from under her all over again. And it hurt worse than she thought it should have.

  Maybe that was how she knew she’d been right from the start. Putting trust in someone too soon was dangerous, and she was too emotionally fragile to venture into a relationship right now. So it was settled. Once and for all. Finally.

  But if everything was so settled . . . why was she still so freaking miserable about the whole thing?

  Sue Ann stood in yet another few inches of fresh fallen snow helping Sophie and the other second graders decorate the small evergreen outside their classroom window. After draping garlands of popcorn and cranberries, the group began hanging the edible ornaments: thinly sliced fruit that had been cut into the shapes of small stars, bread cut into snowman shapes, strawberries sprinkled with sugar to make them glisten, and chunks of pound cake coated in a mixture of birdseed and cornmeal.

  It required a ladder to reach the top, as well as a few parents who didn’t mind climbing in slippery conditions, but when the task was done, adults and children alike marveled at how lovely such a simple, natural Christmas tree could be. And like a reward for all their hard work, barely a moment had passed before they were treated to a visit by a male cardinal who looked breathtaking against the snowy backdrop of the schoolyard.

  It was the end of the day, the final activity of the class party, and Sue Ann had enjoyed the whole afternoon—full of cookies and gifts and games—more than she’d anticipated, making her extra glad she’d rearranged her work schedule to be here. And not one other parent in attendance mentioned anything about her divorce.

  Still, when Jeff pulled up at three on the dot to get Sophie, Sue Ann felt the glaring reminder. And she was glad she had plans this evening to keep her from feeling lonely or whiny. Tonight was her annual Christmas dinner with her girlfriends.

  A couple of hours later, Jenny picked Sue Ann up from home—they were headed to the Farris/Romo Family Apple Orchard, where Rachel’s grandma, Edna, was hosting their event, cooking a big, old-fashioned meal for them all. They’d drawn names for a gift exchange, so as she left the house, Sue Ann clutched a wedding planning book for Rachel, wrapped in bright red paper, as well as a small gift bag containing a gingerbread-scented candle as a hostess gift for Edna.

  Hmm, gingerbread. Like my gingerbread man panties. Which made her think of Adam, of course, every time she wore them. And hell—apparently now it only took gingerbread in general to remind her of Adam. Come to think of it, what didn’t remind her of Adam?

  Even a glimpse back at her own house as she reached the car did it. Since, of course, he’d put up the lights glowing around the eaves and windows right now. And the remains of the snow cat he’d built with Sophie still stood in a vague, lumpy cat shape only yards away. She couldn’t help recalling with a wistful sigh what a nice evening that had turned out to be.

  God, stop thinking about him already!

  “Hey,” she said, trying to sound cheerful as she got in and pulled the door shut.

  “Hi.” Jenny glanced over, but her eyes were uncharacteristically downcast, and she sounded downright morose.

  “Um, why do you look so grim?” Sue Ann asked. “I’m supposed to be the grim one here, remember?”

  Putting the car in reverse, Jenny turned to peer over her shoulder to back from the driveway. “Well, you’ve been less grim lately. Kind of. So I guess I’m taking over on grim duty.”

  Then Sue Ann remembered. “Is it Mick? He still doesn’t want to have a baby?”

  “Yep,” Jenny answered, shifting the car into drive. “And I know it’s not his fault, and I know it’s not fair for me to go back on my word—but I’m still mad at him. I can’t help it.”

  Sue Ann pondered the situation a moment, then simply said, “I’m so sorry you’re going through this, Jen.”

  Until Jenny said, “You think he’s right, don’t you? You think it’s okay for him to refuse me this.”

  Sue Ann pursed her lips—and then prepared to spit out her thoughts. She might have to hold back with Jenny on a few things about Adam, but when it came to anything else, she could lay it on the line. “Look, it sucks to want a child and not be able to have one. But it’s early days here yet. You just decided you wanted this, like a week or two ago. He could change his mind at some point in time. Or you could change yours back. And Mick’s a good guy. I mean, there’s a lot to be said for a guy who is completely and
utterly devoted to you, a guy who’s as true to you as the day is long.”

  Sue Ann had never seen Mick so much as even glance at another woman—for him, Jenny was clearly everything. Then it struck her that Jenny must think she was comparing Mick to Jeff, but in fact she was thinking about Adam. Who had let her down at the very moment she’d felt closest to him.

  Jenny navigated the small grid of residential streets that led from Holly Lane to the heart of town, where the only lights at that hour were the ones aglow on the large tree in the square. Then she finally said, “I hate to admit it, but . . . you make some good points there.”

  “I know I do. And you should be glad to admit it. So you can calm down and act normal now.”

  “You’re right,” Jen said. “I’m going to do that. Calm down and act normal.”

  “Good.”

  But then she cast a disparaging glance in Sue Ann’s direction. “But inside, I still don’t feel normal. I still have that horrible ache inside me that I can’t seem to run away from.” And she was back to sounding just as emotional as she had a minute ago.

  Sue Ann could only sigh. “Listen, Jen—take it from me. No matter how you feel on the inside, act normal anyway. It really does help. And if nothing else, it saves your dignity.”

  Jenny nodded, then acknowledged, “You have stayed pretty dignified through all this—publicly, I mean.”

  “Thanks,” Sue Ann said, and honestly meant it. If Jenny and Adam both thought that, maybe it was true. And dignity hadn’t been easy at times—but it had slowly started getting better, in most ways, especially since she’d forced herself to start getting out and about again.

  “So how are things with Adam?” Jenny asked then.

  Ugh—her least favorite subject right now. Even if he was always on her mind. “Um, over. Definitely over for sure,” she said with a raw conviction that made her proud.

  As Destiny gave way to the more open road that led to the orchard, Jenny peered across the dark car at her. “Something else happened, didn’t it? Something I don’t know about.”

  Okay, maybe she’d gone a little overboard on the conviction. But she’d have told Jenny the whole thing anyway, any moment now, whether she’d asked or not. “Well, we had sex again. A couple of times. Really great sex,” she confessed, feeling a little bittersweet about it. “And somewhere along the way I guess I started having . . . stronger feelings for him than I realized.”

  “Really?” Jenny asked, clearly pleased. But she didn’t know the rest yet.

  “Yeah, and he even decided to tell Jeff he wouldn’t testify as his character witness,” Sue Ann said, remembering how happy that had made her. “But then he found out he was being subpoenaed. Only he didn’t tell me that right away—he waited until after we had sex. And he thinks I’m too worried about the whole thing anyway.”

  “Oh Lord, you’re kidding,” Jenny said, and Sue Ann appreciated the sneer her best friend cast in her direction.

  “Wish I was, but no, it’s true.” And while, at the time, every worry she could imagine had gone tumbling through her brain—like Adam’s testimony somehow causing her to lose Sophie—she knew that was highly unlikely now. She had a better job on the horizon, after all, and if anyone brought morals into question, Jeff’s own behavior would be put on trial, too. So, for her, this was simply about Adam betraying her trust a little. And right now, even a little was too much. Plus he’d made her feel like an overreactive nut at the same time.

  “Did he have any explanation for that?” Jenny asked.

  “None that mattered to me,” Sue Ann replied, in no mood to go into detail about it. “And the upshot is that I instantly realized I was right all along and it was far too soon for me to start trusting in another man. But somehow I still managed to get hurt by him.” She scrunched her brow, feeling the sting inside that, so far, hadn’t even begun to weaken. “I don’t know how the situation got away from me so quickly.”

  And Jenny said simply, “I think it’s like that with love. It can sneak up on you fast.”

  But . . . love? Jenny thought she already loved Adam? Surely not. Surely it took longer to fall in love with someone. Yet she was also in no mood to hash through such a complicated subject right now, so she chose to say nothing in reply.

  And as they exited the car and tramped through the snow to Edna’s little white farmhouse with the lacy cookie-cutter trim, she pasted on a smile even though she hurt inside. Because what she’d told Jenny was true—acting normal was the next best thing to feeling normal sometimes. And she sensed Jenny doing the same thing.

  A minute later, the two were walking in through Edna’s back door—it was the kind of house where anyone who knew Edna just naturally came in the back way—and the place felt busy and alive as soon as they stepped in. Rachel, Tessa, and Amy were already there, and Edna was cooking up a storm, filling the air with rich, heavenly aromas. A tall tree sparkled with old-fashioned ornaments in one corner of the front parlor, and Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas”—scratchy because it came from a piece of vinyl spinning on an old record player—echoed through every room.

  “I hope you girls brought your appetites,” Edna was saying. “We’ve got us a big ham with homemade gravy, mashed potatoes, green beans, corn, cinnamon apples, cranberry relish, and three different kinds of pie for dessert. And I don’t intend to be loadin’ up my fridge with a bunch of leftovers, neither.”

  Meanwhile, their girlfriends were smiling and hugging them hello, setting the gifts they’d brought beneath the tree. Sue Ann was saying how lovely everything looked, and Jenny said how good it was to see everyone, even though they all saw each other fairly often.

  But Sue Ann couldn’t have agreed with Jenny’s sentiment more. It truly was good to see them. It was good to be swept into this lively, cheerful party and let it make her feel better. Acting normal usually became feeling normal when she was with the girls like this. Thank God for my friends. Without them, she wasn’t sure what would have held her together lately.

  Sadly, though, she also wasn’t quite sure what was going to keep holding her together when all the Christmas festivities were over and she ran out of distractions once and for all. She’d been getting herself together after the divorce, finally. But now, that gnawing ache she suffered in her heart for Adam made her fear that, if she wasn’t careful, she could end up on an emotional downward spiral all over again.

  It didn’t make sense.

  But love doesn’t always make sense.

  And then, standing by herself for a moment, peering into the glow of the Christmas tree lights until they almost began blending together, she realized what she’d just said in her head. Love. Was she in love with Adam? Already? That fast?

  She swallowed around the lump that had just grown in her throat. Oh God. Yes. She was. In love. With Adam. That fast.

  Okay. Regroup. Think through this.

  I’m in love with a man I don’t feel I can trust at a time when I’m more fragile and vulnerable than I’ve ever been in my life.

  And in a few days my daughter is going to wake up on Christmas morning brokenhearted—in more ways than I can possibly begin to mend.

  And I have no idea how to fix any of this.

  “All right, dinner’s served,” Edna called from the dining room.

  And Sue Ann knew her only choice was to simply keep on distracting herself—at the moment, with food and friends—and to keep on acting normal. It was her only answer to anything right now.

  Eighteen

  “ . . . hear me! I am not the man I was.”

  Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol

  Adam sat in a rocking chair in his living room, but everything around him was dusty, and the room smelled . . . stale. It was cold in here, cold and dank—he should make a fire. But as he started to get up, his joints ached and he felt deeply fatigued, all the way to his bones. So maybe a fire could wait. Maybe he’d just sit here a little while longer.

  It was a gray winter’s day outside�
�no sunlight came in through the windows, and no lamps lit the room, either. But even in the dim, somber lighting, his eyes caught on some pictures atop the mantel.

  His boys—with their families. They were grown up now, men. How the hell had that happened? But he knew it was them, knew it to his very core, just at a glance. And that’s when Adam realized—he was old. He was old and alone.

  A stark sense of pride in both his sons ran through him as he studied the framed eight-by-tens—each appeared to have a wife, kids. In one of the photos, the whole family wore white and stood outside on a bright summer’s day. In the other, everyone dressed in sweaters or long sleeves and gathered around a brick hearth. They all looked happy.

  But Adam suffered the faint sense that he hadn’t seen his sons in a while, and that maybe he barely knew their children. Maybe he hadn’t been the kind of grandpa their kids had wanted to know. Inside now, he felt vaguely snarly, mean—and perhaps that’s how they saw him, too.

  When he heard a noise from the kitchen, he barked, “Who’s in there?”

  “It’s just me, Uncle Adam. Sophie,” a female voice said. “I’m just getting your meals for the week put in containers and labeled. And you’d best quit yelling or I’ll stop doing even that for you.”

  Sophie. Dear little Sophie. But she was grown up now, too. And labeling meals for him? How old was he, for God’s sake? Or was he just too ornery and broken down to take care of himself and his own food? “I . . . didn’t mean to yell,” he called to her softly.

  “Really? Well, that’s a switch. You usually don’t mind yelling at all.”

  He didn’t? That was who he’d become? An old man who yelled at everyone?

  No wonder he hadn’t seen his boys in a while. No wonder he was sitting in a dusty, closed-up house, cold and alone. Well, alone except for Sophie.

  A moment later, she came into the room, drying her hands on a dish towel and looking . . . oh so pretty. Like her mother had when they were young. His heart fluttered a bit at the thought—but then it clenched tight. He couldn’t remember how things had turned out with Sue Ann, yet he instinctively knew it was bad. “Sophie, why are you here? Why are you helping me?” he asked.